Trust me

About a year ago, I underwent a snap facial-trustworthiness test, which I passed with flying colours.

I was summoned to a quiet suburb in Wimbledon to pick-up a print of Roy Lichtenstein’s Whaaam! – a modernist painting which makes a powerful statement on the de-humanisation of modern warfare but, more importantly, looks freaking cool because it has planes, explosions and shit.

The lady who answered the door, the type who runs local book club evenings, engaged me in some throwaway small talk- clearly a mini-audition that I passed- because she then left me in charge of her four year-old son for what amounted to 20 minutes while she popped to a friend’s car to fetch the aforementioned 1960s artwork.

So, there I was in what resembled an Ikea show home in South London, trying to tame a hyperactive nipper before sticking on In the Night Garden which, like televisual Ritalin, transfixed him in an awe-like state.

(And me too actually, the freeform narrative structure combined with the carefree, playfully curious nature of the lead protagonist makes for an soothing, otherworldly experience)

Having the prerequisite middle class accent and the necessary ‘angles of trust’ etched into my Chevvy Chase are traits for which I should be thankful. Secretly though, I wish I looked a little bit more, I dunno, edgy.

If I could undergo a face swap, I’d probably exchange with DiCaprio. That way I’d be able to look as if I’m grappling with a crippling internal angst, whilst being good looking in a non-irritating, populist way.

Poor DiCaprio, meanwhile, would be stuck with my strangely oblong ‘boat race’, and resigned to roles in Dawson’s Creek and straight to video romantic comedies.

Anyway, when the lady returned, I paid promptly for the goods and made my way home.

She was, of course, unaware that when she walked in, I was in the process of selling her energetic youngster to a major sportswear manufacturer in Turkey on the same auction site from which I purchased the artwork. Bit of irony for you there.

The issue of trust then, is a complex one and people make surprisingly snap decisions based on evolutionary imposed signifiers. Which brings me tenuously to politics and the upcoming election.

As Groucho Marx said, “If you can fake sincerity, you’ve got it made”, but then he also said “I wouldn’t want to be part of any club that would have me as a member”.

- My next post will be a lengthy political rant.

(For legal reasons I should add at this point that I did not, and have not ever tried and sell anyone's offspring on eBay.)